


Asundered

by Eternal_screaming_void



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Rarepair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2020-07-19 06:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19969312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_screaming_void/pseuds/Eternal_screaming_void
Summary: After a fight with Froid on the Lost Light, in which Sunder was left abandoned, without his powers, the former serial killer is getting the help he needs to be a better Autobot.





	1. Prologue

Rung sighs heavily, glasses pushed up on his face as he rubs his optics. Sunder was..well, how does one describe him? Immensely terrifying and frightening? Yes. Upset and scared? Also yes. It’d been a week since the Lost Light had admitted the former serial killer on board, and things had gone smoothly so far. At least for now. Sunder shifts, a bit awkward in the comfortable chair he was seated in, spread out, frill-like finals on his face drooped slightly, in a mixture of annoyance and dislike. He didn’t like being ‘analyzed’ as he called it; that was his job. The mnemosurgeon still greatly enjoyed his job, despite not being able to use his special mind reading abilities anymore, since the fight with Froid, in which his optics, the source of said power, had been lost. Yes, they had been replaced, but it seems there was something special about the other ones that had allowed him to use it. And so he sat, awkward, and not speaking, letting the silence fester and boil. Finally, Rung breaks the silence, a bit impatient, but not cruel. Never cruel. “Sunder, I just need to ask you a few questions, I’d like to make this as quick as possible, Agreed?” He lets his glasses slip back into place, settling for placing his hands back in his lap, attempting a smile, but it came out as more of an unfortunate grimace. “Agreed.” Came the responding grunt. It wasn’t harsh, like it had been on their first meeting, not high pitched, and unsettling; but low and raspy, his normal voice half ruined because he tended to avoid using it.   
The high pitched Mortilus impression was what he preferred, but it did a number on his vocal processor. There was something about said impression that gave Sunder comfort. It made him feel important, and safe. No one would hurt the god of death. He glanced around the room, avoiding looking into the unnervingly similar bright blue optics Rung had. He hated them. He both hated and admired them, for what powers he’d lost, and for how calming and kind they were. He hated them, he admired them. His own optics alight on the model ships lining the room, each of them carefully placed and organized and well taken care of, yet covered in a small layer of dust. He taps his blunt fingers against the side of the chair before glancing back at Rung. The psychiatrist looked, was he scared? No, he was worried. Sunder scrunches up his nose and looks away from that too kind face and those piercing eyes. “I don’t think you’re a bad mech, Sunder. I need to know what happened, alright? Just..start from the beginning. What do you remember?” Rung shifts, folding his hands gently on the desk between the two of them. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was worried about Sunder. He was worried about his condition getting worse, or that Froid had completely misdiagnosed him. That made him worry on an entirely different level, that on some level, perhaps this was their fault. He knew Froid had taken advantage of the mech, had used his psychotic and depressive episodes to his advantage, and in truth, had been rather abusive to him. It wasn’t for nothing that Sunder was suspicious of almost everyone at this point.   
“At the beginning?” The large mech tilts his helm a moment, still lightly tapping his finger on the arm rests. “Uhm...” His large, blue optics narrow slightly as he tries to think, attempting to get his thoughts in order. A voice in the back of his head hisses that he should have been prepared and he shakes his helm violently to clear his thoughts. “I was in the bar, uh, Swerves. Not a bunch of people were there, that’s why I like it. It’s not too loud.” There was a soft ‘shkt’ sound as the needles on Sunder’s left hand slowly revealed themselves, sliding in and out in a kind of nervous tic. It was normal for him to do so, when feeling stressed or tired, but to be honest, it still made Rung a little uncomfortable. Seeing those long, thin needles that had caused so much trouble for the mech in front of him was unnerving, but he wouldn’t dare tell him to stop, he knew how important it was to allow patients to stim and calm themselves, to allow them to be their normal selves to him, when sometimes they couldn’t be anywhere else. It truly helped build trust between the patient and himself, and he believe that wholeheartedly. “I was sitting by myself, and I had a small drink.” Rung nods, uncapping a pen, and writing a few things down, his EM field reaching out to calm the other, softly urging him to continue. “I-I had a drink, and then some others came into the bar.”   
Rung nods again, looking up at Sunder again. “Do you know who they were? It’s okay if you don’t, just describe them for me.” He added, as the mech had looked rather overwhelmed at suddenly being asked to remember a few names, and to be fair, that was alright. He had only been on board the ship for a week.   
“One of them was tall, dark plating with white accents. He..had a kind of harsh voice to him, like he thought everything the others talked about was beneath him.” Sunder suddenly reached up to grab a pen that was lying idly on the desk, and then stops, his frills laid back in mild concern, his optics wide. “S-Sorry, I just had a thought of how to uh..make this easier.” Rung had flinched ever so slightly when the larger mech had lunged forward, but he composes himself, and smiles, pushing the pen and a datapad towards him.   
“It’s alright. Go ahead! What is it?” He adds, with a gentle pat to the other’s hand. He’d noticed before that Sunder tended to respond well to positive reinforcement through touches, rather than words, such as little hand pats and the like. Sunder smiles a little, and pulls the pad and pen to himself, legs pulled up into the chair as he sets the pen to the pad, drawing something out, eyes wide with apparent glee. “Here.” He pushed the pad back over the desk, but kept the pen, clicking it.  
“Oh!” Rung gasped slightly, looking down at the datapad in front of him. On it was a decently drawn picture of the mechs in question, with bits of color added for extras measure. “Oh, this is perfect! Thank you, Sunder!” Sunder purred at the praise, a low rumbling sound, still clicking on the pen. It was a good way to help ground himself in what was reality, and allowed his now aching left hand a way to relax; it hurt to move those fragile needles so much. “So, it looks like, Dropkick, Turbine, and..Whirl?” The Empurata was very easy to pick out in the picture, with the one yellow optic and claws. “Hm..okay. So, what happened, after they showed up?” Rung smiles again, and leans back in his chair, gently prompting Sunder to continue his story.   
“Well, they started talking, loudly might I add, and uh, well I got a little irritated.” Sunder looks away from the other again, his red frills drooping again, but whether it was in shame or exhaustion was unclear.  
Rung nods, frowning as he followed along with the others story. “It was overwhelming to you?” He asked, gently. Sunder nodded, and continued.   
“I went up to them, told them to stop being so obnoxious.” The mech shifts again, his hands gripping the side of the chair now. “They just went on like they were, and Swerve shrugged at me and said it’s normal. So..I paid, and started to head back to my hab.”   
Rung nods, and holds up a finger to show he had another question, and that if Sunder could stop and allow him to ask it, it would be appreciated. Sunder stopped just as he’d been about to continue, mouth open, and leaned back in the seat, his shoulders dropping slightly, his mouth shut tight. Rung smiled at him in a calming, gentle way, but his face was serious. “It’s alright, Sunder, I’m not cutting you off, I want to ask another question, if that’s alright?” Rung pulls his glasses off, holding them in his hand, and gesturing with them. The eyes behind the glasses were calm and collected, but questioning, curious. Sunder frowns a little, biting at his lip a bit, but nods for Rung to keep speaking. “Sunder, did any of those mechs say anything to you, besides being rude? You don’t have to tell me what they said, but it may be important.” Sunder tilts his helm again, rubbing at his optics a bit.   
“Mm, I don’t think so. They kept being loud and I was feeling overwhelmed, so I left.” Rung nods, and then smiles a bit.   
“Are you feeling alright? We can take a break, if you need it. You look tired.” Sunder pauses, looking down at his large pedes before nodding.   
“I wanna take a nap.” Rung was suddenly struck with how much this must have been exhausting him. It was hard, going back through triggering events, he knew that very well.   
“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll walk you to your hab suite, if you’d like? We can start again tomorrow.” For the first time, Sunder smiles a little, and nods, standing and stretching, his frills and arms both stretching themselves out as he lets out a loud yawn.   
Sunder towered over Rung, but the smaller mech didn’t feel threatened by him, no, Sunder wasn’t a bad mech at all, but he had done bad things; but that’s why he was finally getting the help he needed, Rung just hoped he could finally provide it for him.


	2. Chapter 2

It was several hours before Sunder even started to wake from his recharge, all wrapped up in a makeshift nest of blankets. While many mechs preferred sleeping on a berth, there was something about the warm blankets encompassing him like that, it made him feel safe and secure. It was the part of him that felt safe, however, that made him not want to get up. “Why bother getting up, when I could stay here when I’m safe and wanted?” He thought, nuzzling deeper into the blanket nest.   
There was a soft knock at the door and Sunder lets out a low growl of irritation. Rung’s voice came out soft and gentle from behind the door. “Sunder? Are you alright in there?” Sunder bites his lip, but doesn’t respond, curling up tighter in the blankets. “Hey..it’s okay, if you’re not. I’m here for you...if you need me, okay?”   
Sunder doesn’t respond for a good long while, and he hears Rung sigh, and start to move away from the door. “Jus’ don’t wanna get up.” He mutters, and heading Rung stop, rolls his optics a little. “Don’t wanna get up and go out. Don’t have any energy.” He says it a bit louder so the psychiatrist could hear him. There’s another slight pause, as Rung returns to the door, his digit tapping against the doorframe. 

“Can I come in?” There’s a nervousness in the mech’s voice that sends a small shiver of glee up Sunder’s spinal struts. The psychiatrist is scared of him; no, he was scared of what he’d find in Sunder’s room, which was fair he supposed, as the last time they’d met, he’d found Sunder in a cell with many miscellaneous parts and gore around it. However, when Rung opens the door to the hab suite, he's surprised by how neat it is! It's almost like Sunder hardly does anything in here except sleep.

A small stack of datapads are placed on a dresser, and it would seem that practically all of the unwanted blankets on board had taken up in Sunder’s room, as the mech was absolutely buried in them. Nesting; Rung has seen this before in insecure patients. The closeness of the blankets and the warmth provided them with the comfort needed to fall asleep, and to make them feel protected. They felt safe. It made perfect sense for Sunder, as his hallucinations often resulted in him feeling overwhelmed and frightened, and Rung has to admit he was proud of the mech for a pretty decent coping habit. Though, of course, Sunder couldn’t stay there forever.

Rung hesitantly comes over to him, sitting on the edge of the berth, taking his glasses off, and cleaning them in the soft quiet. But, to Sunder, the quiet was anything but soft. He hated silence, for it never was really silent. There were always the whispers, and the sighs of the voices. He hated them, but he loved them. He loved to hate them.  
The larger mech was not at all used to having someone in his own room. Sunder jerks his head around to look at Rung, a pair of bright blue optics staring at the other from the ruffled depths of the blanket pile, and he curls up a little tighter in the nest. 

Rung carefully replaces his glasses, smiling at Sunder, and moves a little closer, but when he sees Sunder flinch, carefully moves away again. “Can I ask what’s wrong?” His voice is gently abrasive. It’s enough to pull Sunder’s attention to him, and the large mech grunts a little, shrugging, the blankets moving in waves as the mech moves, lolling down his back. He grumbles, large blunt hand pulling a blanket back over his head, leaving his face in soft darkness.

“Jus’ don’t feel good. Feel tired. Drained.” Rung nods, giving the mech his space, and hums a little. 

“Did you sleep well? I know, I know, that’s a stupid question.” He adds, seeing the look Sunder was giving him. Sunder very rarely slept well, as he often ended up having nightmares, either about his delusions, or his brother. It was very rare indeed that Sunder slept well. 

Rung gently taps his digit against the berth, and then smiles. “I know what might help, and I’d like you to not get all disdainful on my before you try it.” He says, smiling. “Let’s go for a walk. Or, if you’d rather, you can go alone. I’d just like you to get out for a little bit, but if you don’t feel better afterwards, you can go right back to sleep, alright?” Sunder hums a moment, and nods a little, sighing, and slowly making his way out of the nest of blanket. There’s a pause, as Sunder sits on the edge of the berth, looking away from Rung, looking away from those sharp, but so gentle, blue eyes. He felt guilty. He hadn’t done anything, not here. And yet, he had an overwhelming guilt, hanging over his helm. Over his soul. 

“Can you come with me? I don’t wanna be alone.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things start getting a little dicey on board the ship.

The Lost Light was big ship, even by Cybertronian standards, but it also had to hold a very big crew. Over six hundred Cybertronians crammed into one ship, it was rather like sardines packed into can. But despite this, there were still places one could go to be alone. The Oil Reserves was a good place for this, as it was quiet, and bots would often come in here for a quick dip, or to be alone for a while. The idea of being alone here with Sunder did bother Rung just a little. He knew for certain fact that this mech had killed many, many bots before, and yet, here he was, small and practically defenseless, putting himself in a confined room, alone with him. At least in his office, there were people generally passing by, and he could call for help and be answered with relative quickness. But here, here he’d have to make a comm out to Rodimus or Drift, or Magnus, and hope and pray to Primus above that they’d come in time.

Sunder was sitting at the edge of the bay, his pedes submerged in the dark, slick liquid. Rung settles himself down beside him, legs tucked under himself. Sunder did not look up at Rung, only stared, silent, at his own reflection in the viscous, reflective substance. He looked at it, and then in one violent motion, his nose scrunches up, and his pede breaks the surface of the oil, ripples disrupting the mirror that showed the blood on his consciousness. Rung all but fell into the bay at this sudden, violent motion, but he steadies himself, holding onto the edge with both servos. Sunder blinks at him, those bright, frighteningly blue optics going dim for only a moment. “Sorry. Don’t like mirrors.” He scoots back, away from the edge of the oil, his head dipping down in embarrassment. His pede was coated in a small amount of oil, but Sunder made no movement to knock it off, and just allowed it to sit, for now. 

“It’s quite alright. I know you didn’t mean to scare me.” Rung hoped he didn’t, at least. “Did you have anything in specific you wanted to talk about?” He asked, softly. He didn’t want to push Sunder too hard, and risk him getting overwhelmed, and that could have a variety of responses, none of which Rung felt like experiencing more then he had to from Sunder.

“Not really.” Sunder couldn’t bring himself to look Rung in the face, it was too much of an emotional risk. Looking into someone's face, you could see all their emotions, and thoughts, if only you knew where to look; and there was no doubt in his mind that Rung did. The psychiatrist was too smart to not know. “Just didn’t wanna be alone. Alone is…” He searched for the feeling, the word in his head, watching his train of thought chasing an imaginary quarry for half a beat. “Alone is scary?” He hummed a moment, contemplating his word choice, and shaking his helm, the frills splayed out at his cheeks, bright red streaks in his constant twisting and moving. “No, annoying.” Being alone allowed the silent voices in his head to swell and sing, allowed the cacophony to roar and bellow. He hated it. He hated silence, because it never was truly silent. Not for him.

Rung smiles pleasantly, and pulls a small pack of rust sticks from a compartment on his side, pulling one out, and offering it to Sunder, who hesitantly took it. Holding it in his servos, and running a digit over it, he relaxed a little. The two of them sat in silence for a moment, before Sunder suddenly spoke. “Sometimes, I can still see their sins. I can see them, on their faces, in their heads.” He shifts, laying his large helm against his chest, curling up on himself just enough to give himself some needed support. “Sometimes I can hear them too. Whispering to me in the dark, wanting me to help. ‘I can’t help, I only hurt.’ I tell them. Can’t help..only hurt.” He bites his glossa, repeating that phrase for just a moment, a soft mantra, keeping him safe and secure in his own voiced thoughts. Rung frowns a little, but nods to show he was listening, and groans when he receives a ping on his comm. Red Alert wanted him to come and check on something.

“Sunder, I’m really sorry, but I need to go check on something. Do you want to come with me? I don’t mind if you do!” Rung smiles a little nervously, as Sunder turns to look at him, his horrid blue eyes unmoving and unblinking. 

“Mm. I’ll stay here.” Sunder finally looked away, back out into the depths of the oil, falling deeply silent. He wanted to stay, not because he found this place comforting, but because he hoped Rung wound come back. He found himself enjoying the other’s company.

All was silent in the room for several minutes, until the sound of the sliding door opening and someone stepping into the room was heard. Sunder didn’t move. He couldn’t bring himself to move and see if it was Rung, back already, or some unknown factor in his mind. 

Whirl sneers at the mech’s turned back, approaching him, slowly sliding the door back into place. “What’s a killer doing all alone out here at this time of day?” Sunder flinched as the word killer perforated his bubble of self loathing and thoughts, and his helm lifts up off his chest. “Killer?” He murmurs, frills reaching out into the stiff, taut air. 

Whirl clenches his claws together, his optic curling up into a poisonous grin. “Oh yes. Killer. You’ve killed haven’t you? Without cause, didn’t you?” Sunder remains seated, hearing the mech moving up behind him. He wasn’t scared, and neither was Whirl. Whirl’s rage and indignation was audible in his voice, Sunder had no reason to turn and face him, not until the mech snarls, and grabs his shoulders, spinning him around to look at him, the bit of oil on his pede finally sliding off.

“Look at me, damnit!” Sunder blinks in surprise at the sudden scream of rage, and jerks away from Whirl, surprised. 

“What do you want?” There’s a note of concern in his voice, not fear, but easily mistaken for it. Whirl seemed to take it for fear, however, as he smirks, not with his face, but with his body, with how his back arches slightly in glee, and the way his claws cinched tighter together, and the way his pedes shift and claw at the ground. He was a very expressive mech to not have a face.

“What do I want? Well, let’s see. I want to tell you a story, Killer. A story about a mech named Tock. You see, Tock had a tic.” He pauses, clicking his claws together in a show of aggression, his voice dripping with venom and hate. “Hilarious, isn’t it? Absolutely side splitting.” He snorts, and continues. “Well, once upon a time, Tock and I used to work together. He was good employee, worked hard, but had frequent bouts of anxiety, and he couldn’t stop his tic. So I sent him to you. I sent him to you, the most renowned mnemosurgeon of the time, to help him. And you..” His voice cracks, rage seeping through it for a moment, his body and voice a perfect mirror of his hatred, until he composes himself, a horrid, cold rage, reflected in his voice and in his squinting optic. “You killed him. You messed with his head till he didn’t know right from wrong, or light from dark. And then you killed him. And what for? For some, some, sick satisfaction? So you could feel what it’s like to play God?” Whirl gesticulates wildly, his optic wide with maniacal wonder. “Now you’re gonna feel what he did. You’re gonna find out what it’s like to be so helpless.”

Before Sunder could think of something to say, of some way he could convey to the enraged Empurata before him that he didn’t hardly remember all of what he’d done, that was sorry, anything, he was falling backwards into the oil reserves, his back breaking against the thick void, and sinking in. He thrashes, trying to find a foothold, but he knew it was useless. Whirl chuckles, satisfied. “Don’t scream too loud, Killer. You might wake up he crew.” And with a gleeful, shrill laugh, Whirl dashes from the room, locking the sliding door behind him. With some luck, Getaway and Tailgate would be fishing Sunder’s body from the Reserves two days from now, and no one would ever know it was Whirl who did it.


	4. Chapter 4

Sometimes it seemed that everything had its place in this world. That everything could be gently and meticulously controlled, and coerced into working in its place and for what it was designed. And then other times, it seemed everything was simple and unknowable chaos. Red Alert was used to the chaos. He knew very well that not everything could be controlled, no matter how much he wished to do so, but it was that fact that often sent him into these obnoxious panic attacks. In his lucid states of mind, in which he wasn’t in a panicked frenzy, Red Alert called them obnoxious himself. They were ridiculous, and often spawned on by the silliest things, such as a light being left on in a room, or, perhaps, a gun being left on the table unattended. And yet, he couldn’t stop them, they just happened, and he had to learn to accept that, and roll with it. 

He’d been sitting in Swerve’s when he felt an attack coming on. An overwhelming amount of anxiety followed quickly by manic energy. Swerve had left the door to his store room open! Such a silly thing to get worked up over, and yet, so many things could happen because of it. What if someone got in there and decided to poison the energon? Or, or, what if someone fired a gun, and there energy lit the energon on fire, causing the whole ship to explode?! He’d have to fix this immediately, before anything bad could happen because of it. Because if something did happen, it’d be all his fault, because he didn’t stop it. Red Alert slips behind the counter, and shuts the door, breathing a sigh of relief until a claw suddenly raps on the bar counter behind him.  
“Hey! I didn’t know you were working here!” Whirl seemed to be in very high spirits for some reason, and the crazed mech was grinning, his optic curved up into what could only be called a bastardized version of a smile. It was a shame, really, what had happened to him, and Red Alert felt a wave of sympathy for the other, but shakes his helm in answer.   
“What? Oh no, I-I don’t-” Whirl cut him off however, tapping his claws on the counter again in apparent glee.   
“I’ll have the usual, thanks.” When Red Alert didn’t move, Whirl rolls his optic, and shrugs. “Nightmare fuel with a shot of Red Energon.” Okay. Okay, he could do this. Red Alert didn’t honestly know much about mixing drinks, he knew just enough to not cause an explosion. Another wave of horrid anxiety racks his frame as he starts to pour out the fuel, his servo shaking against the glass he was pouring it in, the rattle of metal against glass reverberating silently through the throng of noise in the bar. No one cared, or acknowledged his fear, and for once, that made Red Alert happy.

“So, uh, what’s got you so happy then, Whirl?” It wasn’t unusual for the copter to be in high spirits, what, between pulling pranks on Megatron or Cyclonus and tormenting Rewind and Tailgate, he had lots of things to bring him sick satisfaction, but this seemed to be different then his normal glee after a successful tormenting. This was ecstasy. Whirl glances to the half filled glass as Red Alert starts measuring out a shot of Red Energon. “Eh, nothing really. Just finally got a nuisance out of my way is all.” The bigger mech glances up from the shot he was pouring, the bottle of Red Energon jerking slightly, spilling down the counter. He winces, and stoops down for a wash cloth, wiping up the mess, and pushing the drink to the copter. 

“A nuisance? You didn’t actually throw Tailgate out an airlock did you?!” Whirl snorts in his drink, shaking his helm and grinning.   
“Nope, though, that would have been a nice touch too. Nah, but uh, just between you and me,” Whirl glances around, his odd, bird like helm jerking around to be sure no one was close enough to hear. “Let’s just say we won’t have to deal with two murderers on board anymore.” Red Alert felt a jolt of fear run across his spark. 

“What do you mean, what are you talking about?” Whirl grinned gleefully, and shrugs.   
“Oh I dunno. Just something I heard through the ole’ proverbial grapevine.” Whirl pauses though, tapping his chin with a large claw. “Though, you know, I haven’t seen Sunder around, have you?” Whirl grins brightly, his optic curving up into a smile. It would be best to send people looking for him; they’d find his body sooner. Red Alert blinks, confused. As the head of security, surely he’d have heard something about this if it were true?  
“Hum. Okay, alright.” He shrugs, and then starts to duck back to the customer side of the counter, but Swerve intercepts him, grinning widely.

“Awww, you decided to help out? Thanks bud, I really appreciate it! I’m pretty swamped today, and Ten is out of commission today for repairs.” Red Alert was suddenly struck with inspiration on how to resolve this problem with Whirl.   
“Swerve, if I promise to help you for the rest of the night, can you do me a huge favor?” Red Alert had bent over to whisper to the minibot, and Swerve blinks behind his visor, a wave of confusion brushing across his EM field, but the red and white mech shrugs, grinning again.  
“Sure dude, what’s up?”

Red Alert takes a moment to be sure Whirl was occupied with his drink before quickly explaining to Swerve what the mech had told him. “I just,I don’t get it. Obviously he’s saying Sunder’s gone after someone again, right? Specifically another murderer? I just don’t get who.” Swerve pauses, processing everything the larger mech had said, tapping his chin with a digit for a moment.   
“Maybe, this is probably far fetched, but maybe he’s talking about Cyclonus? I mean, the guy killed bunches of people for the Decepticons.” Red Alert hums, shrugging.   
“I don’t know. But, I think Cyclonus could really handle himself, unless Sunder got some kind of unfair advantage.” Swerve snaps his digits together, pointing to where Megatron had just gotten up to the mic with a datapad. There were a few groans; no one really liked poetry night, and eventually, they’d carry on like normal over the old mechs ramblings. “Well, the big killer is up there saying his poetry to the void, so I don’t guess Sunder went after him.” Red Alert groans, rubbing his face with his servo. 

“ Gaahhh! There’s too many potential victims! Practically everyone on here has killed someone.” Swerve nods in agreement, as if he were agreeing with some kind of sage advice.   
“Hey! I bet I know what we could do. We could run up to the command deck and find Drift. He has access to the databank, and we can see if anyone’s been offlined or hurt!” Red Alert groans slightly. Why hadn’t he thought of that?! With a quick nod, the two of them take off to the upper deck, Swerve shouting something to one of his friends, and putting a “Bar Closed” sign up on the counter. 

Barreling along the hallway, the two of them kept talking, potential victims running through them as they spoke, names often quickly cut off as they ran into someone.   
“Atomizer?”   
“No, he was on duty tonight, I saw he leave for his shift.”   
“What about Pincher?” Swerve pauses, pulling Red Alert down another hallway.   
“This ways quicker, and who? I don’t know them.” Red Alert sighs exasperatedly.  
“Oh you know, your local friendly neighborhood mad scientist?” Swerve glances up in astonishment. “Primus, how many of those do we have on board?”   
“I frankly haven’t got a clue. I just, assume quests bring on the crazies.” Red Alert grins just a little as they finish their ascent up the stairs, and race into the control center. 

Sitting in the captain’s seat was Rodimus, dozing idiley, his helm jerking up as the two come barreling in, and Drift jumps up from his silent vigil near the door. Drift opened his mouth to greet them, but before he could get a word out, Rodimus had spun his chair to face the Chief of Security.

"Stop." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I swear to god, if the next word out of your mouth rhymes with thunder..."  
"Rodimus, this is serious."  
"If it even begins to rhyme---"  
"We can't find him, Rodimus."  
The captain nearly launched himself out of his chair.  
"How can you not find him? He is literally the size of a---How do you lose a serial killer!?"   
"To be fair!" Swerve held up two fingers, "To be fair, we don't know if he's doing serial killer things. I've made a list of at least sixty locations that we know he isn't."

Rodimus grimaces and runs his servo over his faceplates. “How did we even lose him? I mean, didn’t he have like a, fuck, a therapy session or something today?” Drift has moved from the door now, typing away at a console, his helm bowed as he types, and Red Alert nods. “Yeah! Rung was with Sunder when I called and uh..needed him.” The chief of security glances away from his captain. Everyone knew how paranoid Red Alert could be, and it was rare his paranoid tendencies made him paranoid. But now he couldn’t get the thought out of his head that this was all his fault, because he’d called Rung for help.

Rodimus waves his hand as his mind spins to find words. He hated night shift, it always made him feel groggy, but he’d agreed to take it tonight so Megatron could try his hand at poetry night again. “Okay. Logical thing. Call Rung, see if he knows where Sunder’s at.” 

“Oh! That is smart!” Red Alert flushes slightly as he didn’t even consider this. Fumbling with his comm, he calls up the psychiatrist waiting for an answer as Drift continues his search.

“Everyone on board seems fine, Rodimus. I don’t see why anyone would be getting all worked up-“ his white helm suddenly jerks up in surprise as he looks at something on the screen. “Oh Primus. Rodimus? Rodimus, Sunder is offline.” Bright blue optics stare wildly at the captain and he stares back for a beat. And he's standing, and in one quick, fluid motion takes the comm from Red Alert just as Rung answers. 

“Rung? Hey, it’s Rodimus. Where’s Sunder? Weren’t you two supposed to be having a session?” 

“Ah, yes. I apologize, Rodimus, I don’t really know. He wasn’t feeling well this morning so I decided to wait till tomorrow. I went with him for a walk through the ship though, we stopped in the Oil Reserves before Red Alert called me, and I really am sorry, but I’m helping Minimus currently, can this wait?” 

Rodimus stops, stunned for a moment. He nods mutely before remembering Rung can’t see him, gulps, and then answers, “Yeah, uh. Don’t worry about it. Thanks.” He hangs up the comm and shoves it back into Red Alert’s hands, taking off down the hall. ”Get some weapons and meet me down there! Someone else might be in there and it could be bad news!” Swerve all but tossed his hands in the air in excitement. “Yes!! Finally, I’m involved in something exciting again!”


	5. Chapter 5

Rodimus rushes down the halls to the oil reserves, his processor racing. He’d agreed to take Sunder on board after seeing how, for lack of a better word, pathetic the mech had been after Froid had attacked him to get away from the Lost Light himself. It had taken a lot of persuading on Rung’s part, but eventually the captain and co-captain both caved. To be fair, Sunder’s record was no bigger than Megatron’s. Rodimus cursed as his pede collided with the door to the reserves. He glances into the window, seeing the sticky, viscous liquid barely rippling, but no Sunder in sight.

“Come on Rodimus, you’ve dealt with worse before.” He takes a quick breath before opening the door. Or well, he tried to, only to find it locked from the inside. “Damnit!” He bangs his servo against the door, hoping someone else might be inside and be able to let him in, but alas, no one came.

Inside, the oil ripples again, almost completely unnoticeable from the outside. Sunder could hear banging against the door, muffled by the oil smooshed against his face and audials, but he could hear it. Someone had finally noticed he was missing. He’d offline himself for about an hour to save energy, and had onlined just in time to hear someone at the door. If only he could let them know he was stuck inside..

Rodimus pushes at the door again, before he hears pede steps coming towards him and breathes a sigh of relief at seeing his backup. Granted, Drift, Swerve, and Red Alert weren’t exactly the team he wanted for this, he’d have preferred at least Ultra Magnus in on this too, but they had no time to regroup. Sunder could have already killed someone in there, and was just lying in wait for them.

Rodimus takes a deep breath, channeling his flame powers, getting just enough in his palms to melt through the door, wincing in pain as he can feel it searing against his hands, but he pushes through, jerking the door open just as soon as it starts to give, looking around the empty room wildly. Nothing. They were too late.

********************************************************************

Swerve glances around the room, confusedly. This seemed like the set up for some kind of joke. ‘Four autobots walk in an oil reserve looking for an ex-serial killer and one walks out’ kind of joke. He grips the small pistol Drift had handed and looks over the edge of the ground into the oil. All was still, there was no signs of anything underneath. 

“Hey Rodimus, you’re positive this is where Rung said we’d find him right? You’re sure he didn’t say the Food Reserves, or, or, the Light Reserves!” 

“Swerve, I don’t think we even have a light reserve. What would be the point of it, even?” Rodimus crosses his arms, obviously feeling miffed now that it had been proven there was nothing here. Swerve grins and shrugs, returning his gaze to the smooth surface of the oil, and then he jumped slightly. The oil had just rippled. “Uh..guys?” No one else was looking at the surface of the oil, they were examining the rest of the room for clues where Sunder went. 

And then Swerve shrieked. 

It wasn’t like the minibot to get so frightened, but a servo sticking up out of the oil would scare anyone senseless. Rodimus whipped around, reaching for the blaster at his belt, and Drift yelped, jerking his sword back as if preparing for an attack, and Red Alert ducked, half expecting something to come around and hit him in the helm. But when nothing happened he came back up, blinking. “What’s wrong? Why did you scream-“ a large, blunt, brown colored servo was sticking out from the oil, threatening to sink back down into the depths, and Swerve grins.. 

“Guys. I think we just caught him,

Red handed!”


	6. Chapter 6

“So. They’ve got Whirl in solitary confinement for a few days since he became rather..violent at finding out you were still alive.” Rodimus was tired. He felt tired and on edge, being so close to Sunder in an almost empty med bay. He fidgets with the ridges on the plating of his servo, before shrugging. “I mean, I can’t exactly blame him, really. You did kill his friend.”

Sunder blinks, but doesn’t speak, leaning back against the berth he was sitting in. He just nods a little. Rodimus squints at him and waves a hand in front of the other mech’s face. “Are you listening to me?” Sunder blinks again, his optics focusing on the servo in front of him and he nods again. “Huh. Funny way of showing it.” And then he pauses, frowning a little. “Eh...like I’m one to talk I guess.” And the captain turns to leave, rubbing his optics a little. 

“Try some warm energon.” The raspy, almost timid voice caught Rodimus off guard, and he jerks back around to look at Sunder, surprised. Was it that obvious how tired he was? Sunder just blinks back in response, nodding just a little to show he had indeed spoken. 

“Uh..I’ll try it. Thanks.” Rodimus throws a servo up in farwell and walks through the sliding doors of the med bay.

Sunder didn’t really like the med bay. It was too quiet, too white, too clean. He wanted to get back to his own berth, and that blanket pile, but First Aid had insisted he stay the night just to be sure he was alright. However, despite his discomfort, the large mech found himself almost asleep when the med bay doors opened again, and when Sunder onlined his optics to look, he had to suppress a laugh. Rung was carrying almost half his weight in heavy weighted blankets, poking his head about behind the small mound to grin at Sunder. “I thought you might want these. I couldn’t bring all of them, but here’s what I could carry.” 

Rung carefully placed the pile of blankets at the foot of the berth, handing one to Sunder, letting the big mech wrap the weighted red blanket around his massive frame, humming with content, leaning back into its warmth. “Thank you.” Sunder smiles a little, but was still caught off guard at someone actually doing something nice for him. 

“You’re welcome, just, try not to get into anymore fights, yeah?” Rung smiles, and pulls a chair up beside the berth and sits in it, his legs crossed. “I really am sorry, Sunder. If I’d have known what Whirl was going to do..” 

Sunder shifts a little, and puts a massive servo on Rung’s narrow shoulder. “No. It wasn’t your fault. I’m okay.” He smiles a little, trying to put the mech’s worries to rest. However, Rung frowns a little, reaching up to gently pat Sunder’s hand.

“Sunder? May I ask you something? You don’t have to answer it, but I feel it might be..relevant.” Rung removes his glasses, unsubspacing a rag, and gently cleaning them as he pauses to think of how to phrase his question. “Sunder..do you remember Tock?” A long pause. “Do you..remember any of them?” 

Sunder is silent for a good while, sitting there, fiddling with the hem of the blanket, avoiding Rung’s optics. He nodded, pauses, and then shakes his head. “Yes, er..No? Yes and no? Kind of?” Sunder rubs his optics as he attempts to process the haze of memories from those horrific years. 

“What do you mean?” Rung sits up in his seat as he feels Sunder’s hand pulled away to rub at his face. “Sunder, remember, you don’t have to answer, i'm just curious. It would really help with our sessions, if you’re willing to tell me.”

Sunder was silent for a while, still gently fidgeting with the hem of the blanket. He pulls his legs up to his chest, his optics unfocused and staring off into the distance. In his mind it was like a movie playing. The first person he killed, a patient, a no good, high class mech who had been actively making life miserable for lower class mechs, and Sunder was tired of putting up with it. He’d killed him in revenge for all of the mechs that evil mech had undoubtedly killed in the process of his ‘lawmaking’. He felt a vindication from doing it, from messing with that mech’s brain module until he was a shell of his former self, and then killing him. He was doing Primus’ work, acting as the God of Death. And then he found himself doing it more. More and more no good killers and evil mechs. A serial killer of killers, that is, until the addiction got the better of him.

He sees his brother, Sceptre finding him in the middle of a kill, the look of shock and devastation, and recognition. And then there was a nod of understanding, and a grit of the teeth, and Sceptre had taken the body to be dumped somewhere it would be found. A duo of the likes the world had never seen, and they got closer because of it. Nearly inseparable. 

Then he sees the police at the door. And his brother apologizing, in tears. He had to say something. “I couldn’t let you play god any longer, Sunder. I’m sorry. I love you.”

He sees the two of them in a cell together, Sunder not speaking, is helm on his knees, his processor running a thousand miles an hour, Sceptre off to the side, not speaking either except to comfort his brother some. He sees Froid, gloating and analyzing.

Sunder jerks out of his reverie as a servo is placed on his shoulder, a tentative gesture of support and caring. But all he could see was Sceptre, trying his best to comfort his brother. A hallucination, but a terrifying one. Sunder screams, jerking away from Rung, who removes his servo with a jerk, his optics wide. “Sunder? Sunder, are you alright? Hey. Hey, look at me.” Rung didn’t move, he didn’t force his comfort on the frightened mech as Sunder buries himself under the thick pile of blankets, shaking, and whimpering. Rung frowns, and stays quiet for a moment, before gently patting the edge of the berth. “I’m sorry, Sunder, I didn’t mean to push you too hard.” The large mech didn’t respond. He was busy reliving old memories.

******************************************************

It was one night since the whole fiasco with Sunder and Whirl, and Swerve was getting ready to shut down the bar and call it a night. Visage’s was having some kind of a special party and everyone was there tonight, not here. A few stragglers and non-party people, such as Ultra Magnus lurked around in the smaller bar, but other then that, it was pretty dead. Swerve was halfway through cleaning up when someone else came in though. 

Sunder glances around for a moment before hesitantly making his way over to the bar, sitting down on one of the barstools with a little difficulty due to his large frame. Swerve stares for a moment, before shaking his helm, and going over to him, standing on his stool so he could look over the top of the bar. 

“What can I get you?” Swerve flashes a bright grin, already pulling a shot glass from the small rack under the bar. Sunder blinks for a second, not responding, before looking down at his hands and shrugging.

“Whatever you’ve got.” Swerve’s smile falters a little, half in confusion and half in worry, and he hesitates a moment before pulling a small, dusty bottle off the counter. A small bottle of cherry flavored engex. 

“Here, try this. It’s not too strong, but you know, not too weak either. It’s a good starter drink, uh..if you like cherries.” Swerve loved Earth media, and having watched so much learned they tended to mix their drinks with good tasting stuff, like fruits, and more than once has experimented with the stuff, though no one else has wanted to try it before.  
He found himself being a little awkward, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of Sunder simply being here, or because the mech looked like hell. Despite this, Sunder smiles a little, taking the drink and holding it in his large hands for a bit. “I haven’t ever had cherry flavored stuff before. Granted, I don’t uh, think I’ve had much experience with earth stuff either.” Swerve flashes a bright grin, shrugging. “Try it! I bet you’ll like it.”

It takes Sunder a moment to work up the courage to try the drink, putting it to his intake and taking a small sip, pausing to process the rather intense flavor, and then drinking a little more. “It’s not bad, I actually kind of like it!” Swerve grin excitedly,doing a quick fist pump. “Yes! I knew someone would!” 

The two sit in silence for a moment as Sunder sips at his drink, his helm resting against up open palm, pressed to his cheek. “You know, I’m a little surprised you didn’t go to Visage’s. I figured you’d like a good party.” Swerve crosses his arms over the counter, almost like he was looking at something one could find in a zoo, something awe striking, but not in the good way. Less like seeing a kitten, and more like seeing a python, or tarantula, but Sunder either didn’t notice, or didn’t care.

“Too many people, and it’s too loud.” Sunder rubs the back of his helm a little, before starting to fidget with the now empty shot glass, running a large digit over the rim of it, watching its progress so he had something to focus on. Swerve makes a noncommittal noise, before nodding a little. “Yeah, I guess that can be annoying huh?” Swerve’s eyes were on the shot glass as it was fidgeted with, and then he grins. “Or maybe you just come here to see me!”

It was a teasing joke, but it would seem Sunder didn’t quite understand the joke. “I mean, I barely know you, but yeah, I guess I do like hanging out with you. You’re pretty uh, cool I guess, from what I know so far.” Sunder blinks, and then smiles a little. “I mean.” The large mech shrugs and grins a little sheepishly. “I guess I’d like to get to know you better? Uh. Let me put it like this, you haven’t kicked me out yet. So..yeah.”

Swerve rubs the back of his helm, awkward, but only a little before recovering. “Yeah, well, you haven’t given me a reason to yet, so. Yeah.”  
The two of them sit in silence for a moment, Swerve still sipping on his drink and refilling Sunder’s drink, and accidentally spilling it in the process. “Oh, slag, oh shit, I’m so sorry dude!” Swerve frantically darts out behind the bar, expecting Sunder to be mad. However, the large bot smiles, and then he laughs. Sunder laughs, full and bright, a belly laugh. 

“No, no it’s okay! It’s alright! I-I don’t mind, it’s okay, Swerve. I know you didn’t mean to!”  
Swerve stands a little dumbfounded, caught up in the fact that he’s never seen this mech actually laugh, not a real, full laugh like this. And he grins a little stupid grin, almost dropping the rag, before jerking his helm down and grabbing it before it fell. “Heh. Heh, yeah, okay.” He tosses Sunder the rag with a smile, and the mech cleans himself off, placing the rag back on the counter.

“Hey, you know, let me make it up to you.” Swerve grins again, deciding to poke the bear just a little, and pulls a tiny glass off the shelf, the same glass he’d given to Ratchet before for free, and fills it with some high class energon wine. “Here.” Having already paid for the shots before, Sunder smiles a little, taking the tiny cup, and then looking back up at Swerve. “How much is it?” 

Swerve stares a little, dumbfounded. Was this guy actually offering to pay for such a tiny drink? Seriously? Swerve was beyond shocked. Come on, literally anyone could pick up that it would be free, right? “Uh, hey, don’t worry about it.” The chipper red and white mech grins again, his blue visor crinkling up as he does so. “It’s on the house, my friend!” And Swerve's gaze turned from a morbid curiosity, to one of genuine liking.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, guys! I'll try and pull off a chapter a week at the very least <3

Sunder became a regular customer at Swerve’s after that first evening, coming in at least once a day, sometimes just to talk, but sometimes for a drink as well. He found himself enjoying the seemingly happy mechs company. Swerve didn’t flinch at seeing him, not unless he ran into him or something, unlike Rung, who was still reasonably jumpy around the large mech. Sunder felt a little drawn to his chipper attitude, and his stupid jokes, especially when he wasn’t feeling to great. Despite his now frequent trips out of his hab suite, he still wasn’t much of a people person. He hated being around a room that was too loud, or too full of people, but he was willing to try for his new found friend.

“Come on, it’ll only be for an hour or so, and it’s just a few people! Only Cyclonus, Tailgate, and Rewind and Chromedome wanted to come to this one.” Movie night was a common thing Swerve did, at least once a month. More than that if he could get his hands on more then one Earth movie at a time. Generally, quite a few mechs showed up, but it seems everyone else was busy at the time, and that suited Sunder a little better than the alternative. 

“What if they don’t want me there?” Swerve bites his lip a little, chewing on it for a moment. Even if it was only a few people, it did make him worried about how they would react to him. 

Swerve however, grins, his nose wrinkling up as he does so.  
“Don’t worry about it! I’ve already asked, and they said it was okay!” Actually, Chromedome had said it was fine so long as ‘Swerve kept Sunder on a tight leash.’ but, he guessed it was only because of his own personal experience with mnemosurgery. “Come on, I promise it’ll be fun! And if it’s not, you can totally leave, and I’ll have no hard feelings, guaranteed, I won't even charge you for it, Okay?” Of course, Swerve was joking, but it was little jokes like these that helped Sunder feel a little more comfortable around him.

Sunder nibbles on his lip a little more before nodding. “Alright. Alright. I’ll go. Uh..where is it? At your hab or the bar or..?” Swerve shrugs, looking up at the large bot, pulling a small pack of energon gummies out of a compartment on his side. 

“Here, you want some? They’re all minty and stuff.” Sunder shakes his head but smiles a little. He liked to try the Earth themed things Swerve carried with him, but he wasn’t too much of a fan of mint, it was too strong of a flavor. “I’ll pass.” 

“Well, I’ve got more if you change your mind.”  
Swerve chews on the gummy for a moment before answering Sunder’s question, shrugging again. “Well, it changes every time, depending on how many people wanna come, but I think it’s Tailgate’s turn. I’ll ask okay? Don’t worry about it. I’ll come and get you and we can go together, okay?” Sunder smiles, and nods. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

************************************************************************************************

Sunder paces in his hab, avoiding looking at the small mirror built into the room. To be honest, he typically covered it up when feeling this nervous, as seeing his face usually did nothing to help him, but he didn’t want Swerve to think he were weirder than the minibot already undoubtedly thought he was. Sunder wanted to make a good impression, he didn’t want people to think he was irrational, or just plain crazy. “I kind of am though.” He thinks, his hands clenching together. “I just. Hope I can start over here.” His brother was dead, his powers were gone; he had nothing to hold onto from his old life, so he may as well start over, right?

A few minutes later, Swerve knocks at the hab door, his pedes shuffling a little nervously. “Hey, Sunder, you ready?” The mech pauses before he answers, nods to his reflection, and then opens the door.

“Hey, uh, yeah. As ready as I’m gonna be. I guess.” Swerve smiles brightly, his visor squinting up as he does, chubby cheeks pushing up against it. 

“Great! And I was right, it’s Tailgate’s turn. They’re hab’s just right down here.” Swerve leads the way down one of the hallways, often looking back to be sure Sunder was still following him, though he didn’t really have to. Sunder walks with a rather odd gait, his pedes stumping against the ground rather then rolling against it, but Swerve assumed that had to do with his huge frame. He’s seen Ultra Magnus walk similarly when he’s tired. 

“It’s right here!” Swerve grins, taking a breath from talking for a moment. He’d been filling Sunder in all about what this movie was about on their way here, and assuring the mech he’d love it. Apparently it was some kind of comedy called a ‘rom-com’. The hab suite door was decorated with a little sign that said, in brightly colored block letters, “MOVIE NIGHT!!”, with a few stars and other miscellaneous accents. 

Sunder could hear the others inside, talking to each other, and he clenches his fists together, and then jerks slightly when he felt another, smaller hand on one of them. Swerve had reached up and lightly grabbed his hand. “You okay? We can turn back if you want to, no one’ll judge us. I promise.” Sunder blinks, and then smiles, uncurling his hand and squeezing Swerve’s. They were in this together, and he was glad of that. “Yeah, no, it’s fine. Let’s uh, let’s do this.” 

Swerve grins, and all but bounces in, still holding Sunder’s hand, pulling the large mech inside the room. A few of the collected mechs waved at Swerve, who happily waved back and started a few conversations. However, almost everyone wanted to give Sunder a wide berth, which was made difficult as Swerve had yet to let go of the mech’s hand. Eventually, Tailgate worked up enough courage to talk to the mech, Cyclonus at his side, watching, but not offering to speak much. Granted, he wasn’t much of a talker to start with. 

“Hi! It’s good to finally meet you! Swerve told me all about you!” Tailgate was another chipper little bot, but according to what Swerve had told Sunder about him, he’d managed to get himself stuck in a hole all throughout the war; which honestly, how does that even happen?

Sunder smiles though, and nods, wondering vaguely what Swerve told the bot. “Uh, yeah! You’re..Tailgate then? Yeah, Swerve’s told me about you too.” 

Tailgate grins, nodding. “Yep, that’s me! And this is Cyclonus, he’s my Conjunx!” Sunder waves and Cyclonus returns it politely, his hands crossed in front of him. 

“It’s nice to meet you two.” Sunder grins, finding himself actually enjoying himself at the moment. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.  
************************************************************************************************

They were watching a movie called Some Kind of Wonderful. It was actually Rewind who had suggested it, and after reading up on it, Tailgate had enthusiastically agreed. Romcoms were  
normally a very popular choice for movie night, and this was no exception. Even Sunder actually found himself somewhat invested in the going-ons in the movie, and the people in it. 

Swerve was also enjoying himself, and the little date they were on. Well, Swerve was considering it a date, even though he hadn’t exactly asked Sunder about it. He just hoped Sunder saw it the same way, even though he rather doubted it. Swerve leans against Sunder’s side as the movie starts to come to a close, feeling surprisingly safe next to the not only much larger mech, but ex-serial killer, and he found himself greatly enjoying the other’s company. Sunder flinches a little when he felt Swerve’s weight leaning against him, but looks down at Swerve with a small, goofy grin. “Hi.” He whispers, and Swerve grins back, but doesn’t answer. When the movie ends, Tailgate gets up, bright and chipper, and turns the lights back on, and everyone sits and talks for a little while.

Swerve stayed quiet for a while, still leaned up against Sunder’s side. He seemed to fit almost perfectly, leaned into him like this, and it was making him feel a little sleepy, but he still pulls a grin at Sunder, as everyone else turned into their own conversations. “Uh, hey. I uh..Sunder, I wanted to uh..ask you something.” Swerve fiddles with his digits for a moment, biting at the tip of it for just a second before continuing. “Look uh..technically, Sunder..technically this is uh..a date? Uh..is..that okay?" Swerve flinches slightly as he says that, expecting Sunder to react angrily since Swerve hadn’t outright told him. On the contrary, Sunder grins again, that bright, slightly doofus-like grin. It was a happy grin. One he hasn’t worn since his days with his brother. 

“That’s okay. I like that.”


	8. Chapter 8

The room was dark and shadows cast over the huddled figure on the bed, curled up tightly under a pile of blankets. All was quiet, and Sunder didn’t like the quiet, but he also found he couldn’t sleep with any type of sound..unfortunately including the sounds of his own hallucinations. That’s what he thought it was, when Froid suddenly entered into his hab suite, his arms spread out wide and his eyes curved up into a happy grin, despite his face being covered by the breathing apparatus. Sunder didn’t honestly even react. This wasn’t the first time he’s had a hallucination about his past therapist, and it most definitely wouldn’t be the last; he had no reason to believe it might be real. Why would Froid be here? How did he even get on board the ship when almost everyone here wanted him dead?  
Froid grins, stepping into the room, one of his long arms pushing the door aside as he does, tall, gangly frame looking down at the mech curled up on the berth. “Sunder! I’ve been looking all over for you! Have you been hiding from me again?” With one quick motion, Froid crossed the room, pulling the blankets off of the huddled form. “I know you aren’t fond of getting up so early, but come on, we do have work to do!” Sunder stares dumbfounded as the blankets were jerked unceremoniously off of him, his optics going wide, and the fins at the sides of his face splaying out with shock. This was no hallucination.  
The more he looks around the room, the more he realizes it is not his hab suite on the Lost Light, but rather the room he had when traveling with Froid. “But, but, you’re..” Sunder trails off, sinking back into the bed, his hands out to defend himself and push Froid away, a shiver running down his frame. “You’re not real!” He shouts, optics beginning to gleam brightly in his fear and rage, and Froid jerks away, his hands up cautiously.  
“Now, now Sunder, my friend, my partner, there’s no need to lose your head! I am very real, I cannot express how uh,” he chuckles a little in a mixture of fear and an attempt at calmness. “ How very real I am! Now, just, take a deep breath, remember your exercises!” Yet, Sunder couldn’t be consoled, his body shaking violently as he sits up, tears leaking from his optics as they suddenly offline. This couldn't be real. This couldn't, right?  
“GAAH-” Sunder awakes with a cry of rage and fear, tears streaming down his face, his whole frame shaking violently. He sits up, helm banging against the back of his berth, and he whimpers, holding his helm tightly. He curls in on himself, all but collapsing on the berth chest first, face buried in his blanket nest. He slowly runs his hands over his frame, checking to be sure he was okay, alive, and safe. Then hesitantly he helm, checking the room. There was the mirror, the dresser...yes. He was safe. He was still on the Lost Light, and a very, very long ways away from Froid. His ex-partner couldn’t bother him, not anymore.  
After an hour of lying in bed to try and calm himself, Sunder shakily makes his way out of his hab suite, stumbling down the hall towards Swerve’s bar. Sunder never expected to end up so close to the bot, and yet, here they were.

After a few weeks of getting to know each other, things were going pretty smoothly for the moment; besides, Sunder enjoyed his company, and good company was something he found himself wanting now. It was still pretty early in the day as Sunder walks into the bar, and sinks down into a booth towards the back of the bar which was mostly empty, save for a few people still hanging around after last nights party. 

“Hey! How are ya?” Swerve flashes a toothy grin at Sunder, setting a small glass of plain energon down on the table, and sliding into the seat beside the large mech. Sunder shrugs a little, taking the glass with an appreciative rumble of his engine, leaning down to give Swerve a clumsy, but affectionate bump with his helm.

Sunder wasn’t the best at showing affection, nor was he the best at holding a conversation. Not that Swerve could hold it against him, I mean, when was the last time someone really treated him like another mech rather than something akin to a rabid turbofox? But between his and Rung’s best efforts, Sunder was slowly getting better, bit by bit and day by day, he was making progress. Getting a little better at socializing, at speaking his mind, at showing affection.

This is exactly the reason that helm bump made Swerve all but glow with happiness, and he leans up to gently return the bump, grinning happily, his pedes giving an excited wiggle under the table.  
“Hey, that’s okay. If you wanna talk about it, I’m all ears! Er..figuratively, of course, I don’t have ears.” Sunder smiles a little, but shakes his helm, leaning back in the seat and offlining his optics. He felt safe, and that was a thing for him to relish.

Swerve was bad about rambling, particularly about things other mechs tended not to care about, but Sunder didn’t mind. He enjoyed hearing about Swerve’s interests and it also helped him feel much more relaxed in the conversation. He knew Swerve didn’t expect him to say anything, and it meant a lot to him. It made him happy to hear Swerve talk passionately about something, even if it wasn’t something he quite understood; it made him happy that his partner was happy.

Swerve was talking eagerly about a new series he’d found called Tales of Arcadia. It was split into three parts, and Swerve was talking about the first installment called Trollhunters. Or he was when he receives a text from Rung. It was a simple, quick text, and Swerve glances at it as it pops up on his HUD, and he stutters slightly in his speech. Sunder glances back down at him when he stops talking, away from the cube of energon he’d been halfheartedly drinking.

“What?” Sunder blinks at Swerve as the minibot begins to fidget with his servos, his leg beginning to bounce anxiously against the edge of the booth.  
“Huh? Oh, uh, nothing, don’t worry about it!” He flashes a small grin before continuing. “So, like I was saying, that kid, Toby, he’s not the butt of any jokes! And he’s Jim’s best friend, but he’s not an awkward third wheel, and I just looked at it and I was like, ‘hey! That’s me!’ You know? I-” Swerve breaks off again, letting out a huff as another text pops up on his HUD from Rung. Sunder feels a wave of anxiety as the color drains from Swerve’s face, watching as the minibot’s leg begins bouncing more wildly. The bigger mech hesitates a moment before gently reaching his hand out to rest on Swerve’s other, unmoving leg. He didn’t have to say anything, his worry and his anxiousness were visible on his face as Swerve looks up at him, and gulps. Should he say something? Should he tell Sunder what he’d just found out? No. Best not to bring it up. Security will deal with it, right? Yeah. It’ll all be fine. He hopes.  
***********************************************************************************  
“I don’t even know how you got on board this ship!” Rung stands firm in the hallway, just outside of his office. His jaw set and hands held stiffly at his sides as he looks the intruder over, hoping to buy time for security to show up. Of course, the therapist couldn’t do much, but he hoped he still knew enough about his old colleague to keep him entertained long enough for this situation to be dealt with; hopefully without too much violence.  
Of course, Froid was always one to talk, and to brag. It was his fatal flaw, truth be told, he always thought he was better than everyone else, better, cleverer, and more skilled and that he should prove it to everyone. It’s part of what eventually drove a wedge between the two former friends, and if Rung could get him talking, it was unlikely he'd stop anytime soon. Froid opens his arms, as if wanting to reach out and hug Rung, but he didn’t move. “Oh come now, don’t be so cruel! I merely came to collect something I left the last time I was here, my friend.” His tone was smooth and calm, as if this were something completely natural, and that really, it should have been expected that he would come back eventually. “You see, technically, Sunder is still my charge.”

It took every fiber of control Rung had in his body not to scream, and he takes a moment to steady himself, optics shut tight behind his glasses, and when he finally does speak, his voice is strained and high pitched, his rage seeping through his words. “Now look here, you! You lost any say so you had over Sunder’s well being the moment you abandoned him here. He’s my charge now, and under my care. I’ll be damned if I let an abuser get their nasty hands back over him!” Froid takes a careful step forward, his hands up in the air, though only halfheartedly.

“Me? An abuser? My dear Rung, you must have finally lost your touch! If you recall, I was working oh so hard to fix what damage Sunder did to himself by playing god.” He places a long, white hand over his spark in apparent shock. “I was trying to help him, not hurt him!”  
Rung’s optics snap open as he finally loses his composure, bright blue optics sparking angrily behind his glasses, and his fragile fist slamming into the wall. 

“You liar! You literally helped enable his habits by feeding people, other Cybertronians, to him! At least his brother had the sense to try and get him help! And yet, you just had to take advantage of a hurting and confused mech didn’t you?” His voice dropped to an angry whisper, his words coming out hoarse from his yelling. “You just wanted to see how far his talents could go, without any concern for his well being! I bet you didn’t even know he was having hallucinations, did you?”

Froid’s yellow optics narrow, and he lets out a low growl. “I did too! He kept seeing his brother, even though he’s obviously dead. He’d talk to him sometimes. Pitiful, really-”  
Rung had taken a step forward, eyebrows pushed together, his optics wide with anger and frustration. 

“You knew?” He whispered, his mouth agape for a moment. “You KNEW?!” Rung takes another step forward, a digit held out accusingly. “You’re a PSYCHIATRIST , Froid! You should have been HELPING him! What made you so depraved that you see no wrongs in what you did? The mech has one of the most severe cases of psychosis and depression I’ve EVER seen, and you’re more focused on using him for your own benefit!” Rung’s digit jabs at Froid’s chest, and the much taller mech jerks away from the touch, his own hand coming up to make a jab at Rung’s face, digits just barely missing the orange mech’s glasses.

“Hah! Rung, my dear friend. He was already crazy by the time I got to him! Do you not remember the whole reason he was arrested in the first place? He killed countless mechs! He killed them in bloody, horrible ways, for his own deranged enjoyment! He’s a psychopath! He knows perfectly well how to manipulate people into giving him exactly what he wants, and there was nothing I could do except help keep him in check!” Froid pauses for a moment, a smug grin all but plastered onto his face, despite the lack of a mouth. “But of course, someone who isn’t even legally allowed to practice anymore wouldn’t really be able to tell that’s now would they?” A chuckle escapes him, and he backs away, his long, gangly limbs waving nonchalantly as he begins to pace in a small circle in front of Rung. 

“Sure, I’ll admit, I got rather..involved in his life, perhaps too much so, but it was all for my research! I mean, just imagine what he could do with his talents, with his skills, if he could just focus on that rather than the voices in his messed up processor!” Froid suddenly stops in his pacing, hearing loud footsteps coming from somewhere up the hall, behind Rung. He couldn’t see who it was, but he had no doubt it would mean trouble. He turns back to face Rung, his expression set, ready to push past him, but something about the therapists expression made him stop; Rung was scared.

As soon as Froid’s processor comes to this conclusion, he’s knocked to the ground, a loud grunt coming from him as his chin slams into the ground. Something large and powerful had pinned the thin mech to the ground, and with a rush of shock and fear, he recognizes those fierce blue eyes and the red fins on the face staring down at him; like a judge deciding a criminal’s fate before declaring execution.  
“Sunder!” Both Swerve and Rung’s voice shout the mech’s name at the same time, Swerve skidding down the hall from behind Rung, his tiny legs pumping as quickly as they could, servos trying desperately to pull Sunder off of Froid’s smaller, and now dented, frame.  
“I thought I told you to keep him in the bar, Swerve!” Rung’s voice had jumped another octave in his fear and worry, thin hands trying to pull Swerve away from Sunder, worried the mech may be lost too focused on Froid to be able to separate who was who. However, Sunder hadn’t yet moved, except to loom threateningly over Froid, the fins on the sides of his face flared out to their full capacity, his sides heaving with an apparently silent rage.

“I-I tried to! But he kept bugging me about what was bothering me and, and, I just, fragging, told him! And I didn’t think about it, and, and then he just, took off out of the bar, and I ran after him as fast as I could!”  
Anything Rung was going to say in response was drowned out as Froid let out a high pitched squeal as Sunder suddenly shifts, grabbing the scrawny mech’s helm in his much larger servos, squeezing it threateningly, a morbid, gleeful grin plastered on Sunder’s face as he can see dents starting to form under the pressure of his grip. 

“He’s going to kill me!” A high pitched squeal of anguish left Froid, his optics wide with fright and tears forming almost teasingly in the corner of those yellow optics. “Please, Rung, you, you wouldn’t let him kill me would you?” Swerve pulls at Sunder’s shoulder, trying to get him off, but is roughly pushed back by an elbow as the larger mech lets out an almost feral snarl. 

Suddenly, Froid goes calm. As if an idea had suddenly formed in his mind, he goes limp, and his optics lock threateningly with Rung’s. “What do you think they’ll do to him if you let him do this? Hm?” Sunder hesitates, his grip falter, and optics going wide, his engines stuttering as those words sink in. For a moment, he considers whatever fate he meets because of this would be worth it. His optics lock with Swerve’s panicked face, and he slowly pulls away, venting heavily, and moving unsteadily. Swerve blinks behind his visor, and hesitantly reaches out to take Sunder’s hand, pulling him down the hall. 

“Hey. Hey, look at me.” He reaches up, but hesitates, realizing be can’t quite reach Sunder’s face and goes to pull it away again. “I’m so fragging proud of you.” Sunder didn’t have words to explain how he felt, and just, leaned down into the half forgotten hand, burrowing his face into it, optics shut tight. Swerve’s face contorts worriedly, and he gently runs his thumb against Sunder’s cheek.

A moment later, Swerve was resting with his back up against the wall, the much larger mech leaned up against him, half asleep, and silent. Rung was watching Froid incredulously, tapping his foot on the floor as he waits impatiently for security to show up. The only thing keeping Froid from running off was the fact he didn’t know where he was going, and had a likely chance of running right into someone much less forgiving.

It was shaping up to be a very long night.


	9. Chapter 9

Fortress Maximus was less than pleased about this whole situation. Froid was currently sitting cross legged in a cell, Sunder curled up in a cell opposite him, helm tucked under a giant paw, like he was working off the assumption that if he couldn’t see it, it wasn’t real.

Max sighs, and runs a servo over his faceplates, and stepping outside the brig, and flinches slightly when he almost runs into Rodimus. The captain shifts, and jerks his servo away from the wall, covering up a few rather obvious burn marks. Fort Max sighs, and shakes his helm, but doesn’t acknowledge it. “What is it, Rodimus?”   
“I wanted to talk to you.”  
“Obviously, or you wouldn’t be here.”   
Rodimus squints up at the much taller mech, and crosses his arms, almost poutily. “Don’t. Don’t be like that.” Max sighs, and rubs his optics for a moment.   
“Rodimus, I can’t not be like this. How could I be any other way right now, with this mess going on?” 

Rodimus sighs, his spoiler giving a little shudder as he nods. “Yeah, I guess that’s fair.” He glances into the window of the brig, watching Sunder through the bars of his cell, and then glances at Froid, still sitting all prim and proper, as if this was all a mild inconvenience. “I mean, what can we even do here? Is there some kind of like, legal action we could take? Get Froid off the ship? I know him and Rung have some beef, and obviously he’s a threat to Sunder, or like, a threat to his sanity? Or something?” Fort Max shifts, resting all his weight on one pede, shaking his helm.  
“Not really. If anything, Froid has the legal foothold here, since Sunder attacked him.” The massive mech hesitates, following the speedster’s gaze back inside. “Rodimus, Froid is angling for a trial. He wants to see who should have legal guardianship over Sunder, since there was no legal paperwork done for Rung to take over from Froid and all that mess. And honestly, Rodimus? Law wise, he’s definitely got the most sway here.” 

“Okay, well, bigger problem. Me and Megs are having trouble keeping some of the crew in line after all this. A lot of them are saying we should just lock Sunder up and let Froid go free, since Sunder is a serial killer, and you know, Froid is pretty well known for being a not bad guy.” Rodimus crosses his arms, still holding Max’s gaze. “And frankly, I’m almost of the same mind, Sunder did attack him, unprovoked.”

Fort Max shakes his helm. “Not unprovoked. Having someone mentally and or physically abuse you for so long, that’s not unprovoked.” He clenches his fists, and shakes his helm. “That’s completely fair in my book. The only reason I have both of them locked up, is to keep the crew from going into an open revolt.”   
“Look, Max, I know what you’re thinking, but this isn’t the same situation. Froid was trying to help him, not actively hurt him, I think. I-I mean, I know what Rung said, but I dunno..I frankly think he’s letting his own dislike of Froid cloud his judgement on this.”   
“No, Rodimus. This is a lot more similar than you think. Overlord went through and manipulated me as much as he tortured me. I know these symptoms when I see them.” 

Rodimus groans, and leans his helm back against the wall. “Look, I get it. Kind of. I just. Okay. If we went through with this trial thing, who would we get to be the jury? Literally everyone on board is biased in some way.” Max doesn’t answer right away, simply staring back through the window for a moment.  
“I don’t know. I don’t. I mean, Magnus would be a good choice, looking at the law, but besides that, I don’t really know.”   
Rodimus shuts his optics for a moment, banging his helm against the wall as he thinks. “Frag, I dunno. I just. This is all so confusing.” 

Max glares slightly, as Rodimus bangs against the wall. “Stop that. You’ll dent the wall.” Rodimus glares at him, but stops, going back to leaning against it instead. “We can figure this stuff out later. I’m gonna keep these two from killing each other in the meantime. Tell Rung he can come visit if he can be civil towards Froid.” 

********************************************************************************************************  
Froid watches intently as Fortress Maximus walks out of the room, and leans against the wall waiting until the door shuts before he speaks. “I’m only here because I’m worried, Sunder. I know you think Rung has your best interests in mind, but he’s done this with other patients. You know he’s unlicensed, yes? I’m very worried that he’s trying to simply use you, Sunder.” The large mech shifts uncomfortably, tucking his helm deeper under his arm, optics shut tight. He doesn’t speak, just lays there.Froid uncrosses his legs, and stands, moving to the other side of his cell, to the wall the two cells shared. Looking between the bars, at the huddled form below him, and sighs. “You could have been so much more.” 

Froid’s helm jerks up as the door to the brig opens up again, and a minibot walks in. Yellow optics blink in surprise as Swerve comes over, and sits by Sunder’s cell, his back to the bars; almost similar to a child leaning against the enclosure of a much larger animal. 

“Hey. You doing okay? It’s alright if you aren’t. Just..I’m right here for you, okay?” Swerve’s general happy exterior had faded slightly, enough to allow his worry and fear seep through his EM field. Froid glares down at the smaller mech, and huffs, sitting back down on his berth, arms crossed. Sunder glances up, very carefully avoiding looking at Froid, and just locks his optics on Swerve’s back. He lays on the berth for a long while, unable to find the will to move, then, without thinking, he half falls, half stumbles off the berth, and slips down against the bars, with his back against it; mirroring Swerve. The two stay in silence for a moment, until a large paw like servo wiggles its way between the bars. Swerve grins, not his normal, carefree grin, but a more comforting one. And he takes Sunder’s hand in his much smaller one. They were both comforting each other in this small moment. Creating a space of comfort; a safe space. A moment in time free from worry, despite the looming threats hurdling at them as time goes on.

But for now, they were safe. And they were happy. And that was all they could ask for.

********************************************************************************************************

Rung fidgets momentarily with his oculars, cleaning them as he gathers his thoughts. He had to make this count. If he didn’t this whole trial could end in a horrendously nasty way. The skinny mech clears his throat, and replaces his oculars, looking up at the jury stand, and then back down towards where Sunder was seated, kneading at a small piece of fabric in his servos, optics unfocused. This was stressful for everyone, but most everyone else could deal with it well. Rung’s optics flash in a bit of worry, and he has to stop himself from saying something to comfort him. 

Ultra Magnus taps his digits impatiently against the table the jury was seated at, and stares down at Rung. “Did you hear the question?” He asks, hands folding against each other to keep them still. He was getting impatient. As far as he could tell, this trial had an obvious end. 

Rung’s optics glance away from Sunder, back up the Ultra Magnus, and then to the rest of the jury, Rodimus and Megatron. “Ah, no, I apologize. Can you repeat it?” He chirps, hands folding into his lap, and he offers a quick, exasperated smile.   
“Did you, or did you not, see Sunder attack Froid?” Rung blinks, and sighs, before nodding.   
“Yes, I did, but-” Magnus cuts him off, shaking his helm.   
“No buts. Did you or did you not?”  
“I..well..yes. Yes, I-I did.” 

Froid leans back in his seat, a grin echoed in his optics, as he leans down to whisper something to the mech seated beside him. Both he and Sunder had been assigned someone to act as their defender during the trail. Froid had been assigned Perceptor, who seemed rather indifferent to the whole proceedings, as if he had a billion other things he’d rather be doing. The scientist sighs a little at the whispering, and shakes his helm, gesturing for Froid to quiet himself. Sunder on the other hand, had been assigned Pipes. A plucky little minibot, much more jovial and excitable than Swerve, but with a knack for being rather persuasive when he wanted to be.

Pipes stands from his seat, waving to get the jury’s attention.”If I may add on, however, it was in self defense. Sunder wouldn;t have attacked anyone if he didn’t feel threatened.” Magnus glares down at the minibot, and shakes his helm. “I find that very hard to believe from a serial killer.” He states, and Sunder shifts anxiously, his fins giving a nervous flick. 

“Now then. Can you describe in detail, the events preceding Sunder attacking Froid?”   
Rung sighs, and nodding, begins an in depth description of how Froid had seeked him out personally. Swerve watches from his seat off to the side of the courtroom. He’d been called in the day before for questioning, and it had to have been one of the most nerve wracking experiences he’d ever had.  
“Primus, this is horrible.” He whispers, watching Sunder intently. He was suddenly painfully aware of how those people in Law and Order must feel when watching a loved one go on trial. It was a horrible, anxious feeling that made him want to just run in there and hug his partner.  
“Horrible?” Came another voice. “The only thing horrible about it is that they haven’t locked him up yet.” Swerve whips around, surprised to come face to face with Whirl, perched on the edge of a seat behind the minibot.   
“What?” He asks, dumbfounded.  
“You heard me. I don’t know why they haven’t locked him up yet.” Whirl nods his long helm, as if stating a fact. “It’s not like he;s good for anything else.”

Swerve was on his pedes in a matter of seconds, jaw clenched. “Now look. I don’t care what kind of personal bias you have against Sunder, but-” Whirl suddenly cackles, leaning back in his seat, helm thrown back as he does. It takes a while for him to stop, and he brings a claw up to wipe away a small dribble of ocular fluid from his signal optic. “Sunder? Nah, nah. I couldn’t care less about him if it means Froid gets locked up. The lesser of two evils or whatever.” 

For the second time in a few seconds, Swerve found himself staring at the manic mech dumbfounded. “What?”  
“Oh yeah. Before the whole, me being on the Lost Light thing, I used to go see Froid. He’s an aft, and deserves whatever is coming to him.”   
“Huh. I guess I kinda assumed everyone used to go see Rung before this..” 

Both of their attention is pulled back into the courtroom, and Swerve retakes his seat as Rung returns to his own, on the outside ring of the courtroom. Whirl squints down at Magnus as the jury pulls together to talk things through. “Yikes. That’s not a good look..” Swerve glances between Magnus and Whirl, trying to see what Whirl was seeing.  
“What do you mean?”  
Whirl sighs, clicking his claws together. “Look, Swerve. I know Magnus. I’ve been on the receiving end of his judgement before. That’s not his forgiveness face.” 

“We, as the jury, have come to a conclusion.” Sunder looks up at the jury’s table, optics wide and worried. He jerks slightly when Pipes tries to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and taps his digits anxiously against the seat. The waiting was the worst part. It was the same the last time he’d been in a trial like this.

“We find Sunder of Tetrahex guilty of all charges.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter, but a lot happens.

It took a lot of vouching from Rung for Fortress Maximus to allow Sunder to leave his cell. Sunder, the second day of sitting in his cell awaiting a verdict on what they were going to do with him, had asked to visit his brother. Sceptre had been kept in his alt mode, like the rest of the smaller ships, in the ship bay. According to Rung, this was something the mech did when he felt very stressed, still seeking his brother’s comfort, even in death. It struck Max as a very morbid thing, but who was he to say no? 

Sunder has visibly relaxed when seeing his brother’s alt mode, shoulders slumping forward with relief, as if just being in the same area lifted a heavy burden off of him. His pedes shuffle as he walks over to the massive ship, resting his helm against the outer plating, optics offlined. Fort Max sighs, watching him from a bit of a distance. “Come here and I’ll take the stasis cuffs off. Just, stay nearby.” Sunder’s helm jerks upwards, and he nods, silent as the grave.

Max was struck by how odd Sunder was. He wasn’t being violent like so many of his other inmates, and he wasn’t completely immobile like the others. He was silent. Sunder hadn’t spoken verbally for the whole time he’d been locked up, and was almost constantly scrunched up on himself, arms tucked tight to his sides or chest; almost like he was scared someone was going to reach out and grab him. Fort Max was convinced the mech was hallucinating again, but Sunder had yet to say anything about it, if he was. 

Max opens the hatch to the inside of the ship as gently as he could. He was aware Sunder still thought Sceptre was alive, and didn’t wish to cause the mech any reason to lash out, or distress. Rung said it was because Sunder couldn’t mentallyprocess the grief associated with losing his brother, but Max had a fleeting moment where he wondered if, rather than not being able to process it, Sunder was simply doing so in his own way.

The ex-serial killer stumbles into the living room area, now devoid of any furniture or the like, and simply pulls his legs out from under himself, landing heavily on the floor. It takes a moment for the large mech to lean himself back onto the floor, and then onto his side, audial presses gently, but firmly to the floor, as if expecting a response. “Hi.” His voice was surprisingly soft, almost like he did when Swerve got upset. “It’s me again.” 

Sunder takes in a deep intake, and sighs, his engine giving a slow, content purr. He could almost feel it. He could almost feel his brother holding him again, in his arms. It made him feel so safe. “I know I haven’t been around lately, and I’m sorry. A lot’s been going on.” He falls silent, as if expecting a reply, and a small smile flickers across his face. “I miss you.” A tear drips down pass the smile, dripping down his shaking lip, onto the floor. “I’m so sorry. For everything. I didn’t deserve someone like you.”

Max hesitates, watching the pitiful scene before him, leaned against the side of Sceptre’s wall. And then he blinks, surprised. He could have sworn..  
He pressed an audial flush to the metal side, caught off guard by the soft thrumming he could hear through the metal. It was barely there, but it was unmistakable. It was the sound of a spark, just barely ignited, thrumming through the vessel.

*************************************************************************************************************  
Sceptre awakes for the first time in three years on a med bay berth. He jerks upright, almost sliding off the rather small berth, and gasps, air flooding into his vents. He stops, mid sitting up, trying to calm his breathing as he heard voices in the other room. “I don’t get it. Someone can’t be dead and then suddenly not be.” First Aid’s voice bounces around the walls as he speaks, apparently in shock. “It just doesn’t happen! That’s fairy tale stuff, like this whole stupid quest!”   
“While I agree with the sentiment, it just did happen, Aid, so I wouldn’t say it’s impossible. Look at it this way, he may have been alive this whole time, but only barely.” Ratchet sighs, and rubs his face. “I agree, it doesn’t make much sense, particularly with how many ‘adjustments’ his brother made to his mech mode.”   
Sceptre hesitantly runs a servo over his frame. So that explained why he felt so weird. His frame was much different then he remembered, but he could still move. He was still alive. He glances around for any sign of his brother, and fear floods his spark when he can’t find him. The gold and red mech sits all the way up, and glances at the side room where the medics were talking. He almost jumps off the berth again as a loud beep comes from a small monitor he hadn’t even realized he was hooked up to. First Aid dashes back into the main med bay, blinking in surprise. “Hey!! You need to lay back down! You could kill yourself from the stress of moving just yet-”   
Sceptre blinks his bright blue optics, staring down at the minibot before him, frantically trying to get the massive mech to lay back again. “No, I feel fine.” He can’t hide a small grin at hearing his own voice again; a deep, soothing bass. “Where’s my brother?” Ratchet exchanges an anxious glance with the minibot as he enters the room, and clears his vocoder before replying.   
“Well, that’s a bit tricky to answer. Sceptre, your brother won’t be around for much longer. His last wish was to come see you again. He’s due to have his spark extracted an hour from now.”


	11. Chapter 11

“What?” Sceptre blinks in confusion as the medic’s words sink in, his plating shifting, flaring up. “I don’t understand-“ The giant shuttle blinks, bright blue optics filled with grief. He’d been so happy just a few seconds ago, and now the coolant was welling up in his optics.   
Ratchet sighs and gently pats Sceptre’s shoulder, before turning to First Aid. “Make sure he doesn’t stress himself out too much, or he might send himself into stasis again. Just make sure he’s alright. I’m going to talk to Magnus.” Ratchet turns without another word, a very determined look on his face.  
Sceptre sits in silence for a moment, coolant leaking from his optics. First Aid sighs, and rubs a servo over his face, before looking back up at Sceptre. “You’d rather your brother not die today, yeah?” The giant mech’s frame gives a shudder, and he nods, optics taking a moment to focus on the much smaller medic.   
“Ye-ah. I’d prefer that.” First Aid nods, visor narrowing.  
“You’ve got it. Come on, maybe we can stop this before it’s too late.”  
*************************************************************************************************************  
Swerve had closed the bar early, not that many people had come in anyways. It was hard to see such a normally cheerful mech so miserable. The only person who had stayed around was Whirl, which in hindsight, really wasn’t helping his mood any; but it was much better than being alone.  
Swerve groans, barely looking up as the door to the bar slides open. “Bar’s closed.” He slurs, helm resting on his arms, a servo clutching the half empty bottle of Engex. However, when the two pairs of footsteps didn’t stop, Swerve looks up, blinking rapidly behind his visor to bring the odd pair into focus. “He-ey Skep..Skr..uh..is the..is the ‘c’ silent?” Sceptre raises an optical ridge, glancing down at First Aid, as if to silently ask if this was the right mech, but moves forwards into the bar behind the minibot, standing between two barstools.   
“It’s Sceptre. You’re Swerve, then?”  
“Uh huh. That’d be me-e. The big dumb fraggin’ idiot.” The drunken mech chokes back a small sob, helm flopping back down onto his arms, face purple as he strained to keep more coolant from coming down his face.  
First Aid gives Swerve a concerned look, half wanting to take the bottle of Engex away from him; sensing a massive future hangover. “Maybe you’ve had enough for now.” He adds softly, carefully sliding the bottle away from Swerve, just as Whirl saunters out from the store room, another bottle in hand.  
“Hey! You didn’t tell me we were havin’ a party! We’ll need another bottle!” Whirl snickers, optic curved into a grin, waving the bottle clutched delicately in his claws. Sceptre scowls, plating flaring out slightly as he finally puts a name to a face; as Sunder had told him all about the encounter he’d had with Whirl, weeks before.   
“We’re not having a party, Whirl. We’re going to save my brother.”  
“I’ll get another bottle.”  
*************************************************************************************************************  
Sunder has always had a rather unique outlook on death. He always tended to see it as more a release from an imperfect vessel, rather than a permanent void. It was always a comforting thought; to be released and to become what he believed would be his true godly form again as Mortilus. However, now that he was faced with the consequences of his life, and the looming fate of death coming ever closer with each passing second, it was a rather scary thought. All of a sudden he had so much to live for again; Sceptre and Swerve, hell, even Whirl and Rung. They had all ended up rather close, and of course, he was ecstatic at finding his brother to be alive again. For the first time in forever, the ex-serial killer wanted to live, rather than die.  
He passes his cell, glancing out the small window, into the hall beyond. He could see a guard out there, talking to Ultra Magnus, who seemed grim. Twenty minutes was all that stood between him and Well. HIs knees give a sudden tremble as he thought about it, but takes a moment to steady himself. He’d been in worse situations before, right? Right?  
Except he hadn’t. Even when he and Sceptre had escaped before, it was on the way to the execution, and with the spark extraction happening here, on the ship, he had very little chance of escaping. All of the consequences were arriving at once. Sunder had finally reached the end of the line..and just when things had been looking up. How had it all gone wrong?  
He bounces his helm against the metal wall of the cell, growling in frustration. Why? Why now?   
He hardly noticed the door to the brig opening, and someone stepping inside. A dark figure, cloaked in an acid green. Sunder glances up at them, helm tilted to the side curiously. He hadn’t seen them before. It was difficult to make out anything about the mech, as the hood of the cloak was pulled up, casting their features into shadows. A clawed hand reaches up from the folds of the fabric, pointing above them. Sunder stares for a moment, before following the hand, looking up into the sky above; for he could suddenly see through the ship, into the deep space beyond. All was dark, covered by the massive shadow of a planet; every star beyond it extinguished behind it’s massive size, or perhaps gone for good. A chill runs across the mecha’s frame. He didn’t know why, but for some reason it didn’t settle well with him.  
He looks back down at the figure, mouth hanging open slightly. “What? I don’t- What is that?!” However, the figure was already gone; the metal walls of the cell back in their place, and the empty space once again hidden.  
What had that even been? A premonition? A hallucination? It had felt so real.  
*************************************************************************************************************  
Ratchet skids to a halt as he crosses into the bridge, caught off guard to find Rodimus and Drift both staring out a window. “HEY!” He shouts, waving a servo in the air to catch their attention, crossing his arms and scowling as he crosses over to them. “What are you two staring at? I thought we had more pressing-” He breaks off as he stares out the window as well, catching glimpse of the giant planet approaching the ship. “What. The hell. Is that?”   
Rodimus had gone rather pale, fidgi[ting absently with a flame on his fingers. “It’s Unicron.” He said it almost casually; it’s not like he hadn’t faced the chaos deity before, and won too. But that was mostly pure luck, in his mind. “I don’t know what he wants! We sent a com out, but they haven’t responded yet.” Drift was clutching the hilt of his blade, lips moving in a silent prayer.  
Ratchet hesitates, before going over and taking one of the younger mech’s servos in his own, giving it a light pat. “So. So, what does this mean for us then? Do we continue as planned, or..?”  
Rodimus sighs, rubbing his temples, dispelling the flame on his hand. “Primus, Ratch, I don’t know, and can I be frank? I don’t care right now. Magnus is gonna be pissed if I tell him not to, but..”   
“I’ll go talk to him. I wanted to talk to him about Sceptre anyways.” Ratchet nods to Drift, before heading back out of the bridge, and towards the brig, taking a moment to process what was even going on. Ugh. Why now of all times?  
“Magnus. Rodimus thinks we should hold off for now; some other stuff has come up.” Ratchet was careful to keep a steady face as he approaches the large mech. “Besides, I’m worried if we do now, Sceptre’s gonna go into shock again.” Magnus scowls, glancing into the brig through the window, watching Sunder sit with his helm against the wall.   
“Why? They’re both criminals.”   
“Yeah, and so is like, half this ship, Magnus. I don’t get why you’re being such a-” He breaks off as the ship gives a sudden lurch, skidding to the other side of the hall, and grabbing the wall to keep himself steady.  
“What was that?” Magnus shouts up the hall, glancing to Ratchet. “I’m going to figure it out.”  
“I’ll come too.”  
*************************************************************************************************************  
The cell in the birg really wasn’t that hard to break out of. Particularly since Sunder had a bit of practice at this; it wasn’t his first time being in a holding cell, and it probably wouldn’t be his last.  
“Come on, come on..” He grumbles as he fiddles with the lock, using the delicate needles on his servos to pick the lock. No one could fool him; he knew something was going on, and he wasn’t going to let whatever it was stop him from getting back to his brother, and Swerve.  
He runs down the hallway, and almost stops with fright as he notices the small team of mechas making their way down the hall, but relaxes once he sees Swerve, and grins happily, running over and picking his mate up by the waist. “Hi!” He chirps, and in his excitement gives Swerve a little kiss on the helm.   
“Woah.” Swerve blushes, optics wide behind his visor, purple creeping back up onto his face. “Hey big lug!” Sunder grins, setting him back down as gently as he could manage.   
“What are you lot doing out here?” He asks, looking around at the rather ragtag team. Sceptre grins, happy to see his brother again, and see him so happy.   
“Looking for you, actually.” He answers, before giving his brother a tight hug, almost encompassing him with how big he was. Sunder jerks slightly, surprised for a moment. He’d seen his brother hugging him so many times before, only to not feel it, and to actually feel those arms around him again, it was almost overwhelming. He stands there for a moment, just letting his brother hold him for a moment, arms held at his sides, before letting out a soft purr, helm resting against his brother’s chest. This was nice.  
“Hate to break up the love fest here guys, but I think we need to skeedadle.” Whirl jerks a claw back down the hall, towards the hangar. “Before someone else comes down this hall.  
“Whirl’s right, come on!” First Aid bounds down the hall, as quick as his small frame could carry him, Sceptre and Whirl right behind him. Sunder hesitates, looking back at Swerve, and reaching gently for his hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”   
*************************************************************************************************************  
Oblivion scans the ship for a moment, examining how big the Lost Light was. It felt odd, delving in there to get their quarry, but the Herald had no problem doing so. In fact, it was perhaps the least dangerous thing he’d done in ages. The blendtron takes a beat to glance around the boarding vessel, taking count of his other Heralds, and a few terrorcons. This would be tricky, but it was imperative that they pretend to be peaceful for now. The Heralds of Unicron are a force to reckon with, and even Rodimus would know that. They would want to avoid conflict if they could avoid it; and to be fair, Oblivion would much rather them just hand over Froid and be done with it. The psychiatrist was due for some Unicronian justice, on more than one account. Several Heralds and residents of Darkhaven had been on the receiving end of his ‘methods’.   
The boarding vessel docks easily into the hangar, and Oblivion strolls nonchalantly towards the front of the vessel, a small grin flashing across his face as he opens up the comm link with the Lost LIght. “This is Oblivion, of the Heralds of Unicron. I will make myself very clear only once, Rodimus Prime. We are here for one person, and one only. Hand them over, and we’ll be on our way, peacefully.” He pauses to let his words sink in, before continuing. “We just want Froid. The psychiatrist has interfered in Darkhaven, and managed to break several Unicronian laws in the process. It’s time he faced his judgement.”  
There was no answer, but he didn’t expect one, not right away. Instead, he begins to make his way off the vessel, signalling for a few of the other Heralds to follow him, leaving the rest there for now. They were only here if things broke bad.  
The large mech makes his way off the vessel, and into the Lost Light’s hangar, narrowed acid green eyes glancing around the room as he shifts, the same green cloak pulled tight around him, giving him an air of ominous mystery. It worked well when they needed to have a bit more terror to their looks. However, the Herald stops as he notices movement on the other side of the hangar, and frowns, turning to face the ragtag group, and coming face to face with the one mech he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to meet.   
This was going to be much more difficult than he’d originally thought. 

*************************************************************************************************************  
Rodimus replays the message once again, taking a moment for his processor to process what Oblivion had said. This..was terrifying. On one hand, he’d dealt with Unicronian’s before, but on the other, he’d had a lot of help. He taps his digits against the desk, drumming into the metal on the side of it. “They’ve docked in the hangar, Rodimus.” Red Alert glances up from the cameras, and to his captain, attempting to keep the fear from showing in his face. He was already paranoid enough without having to worry about Unicronian’s now. “Ultra Magnus and Ratchet went down to investigate, I think they’re just about-” He breaks off as he registers the new shapes barreling into the hangar, and sits there for a moment, slack jawed. “Uhhhh..Rodimus? Problem.”   
For once in his life, Rodimus Prime was struck with just how grave the current situation was, and for a split second showed it. Sunder was out of his cell, alive, and currently in a standoff with a Herald. Things literally couldn’t be worse. Well, maybe they would have been if Overlord was still there. Best not to think about it.   
Rodimus swallows the lump in his throat before nodding. “Come on, maybe we can stop this from getting too out of hand.”   
***********************************************************************************************************  
Sunder skids to a halt, caught off guard to see a boarding group here, they’d all be so caught up in getting away that they’d hardly noticed anything else going on. He stops dead, a servo on Swerve’s shoulder, almost tucking the minibot behind him.   
Oblivion takes a moment of cold analysis, glancing over the group of misfits in front of him, green optics lingering on Sunder, almost curiously. “The puppet emerges without his master. What a surprise.” He takes a step forward, removing a scythe from its place on his back, gesturing with it as he speaks, pointing the blade towards the door. “I’m going to politely request you all turn around and go back the way you came. We have no quarrel with you, but I have no qualms making you go back.” Sceptre blinks, apparently confused by the mech’s statement, and shoots his brother a concerned look, before turning his attention back to the Herald.   
“Puppet? I don’t-” Oblivion spares him a glance, and a small grin flashes across his face, fangs peeking out from the upper lip.   
“Of course. He’s been Froid’s little puppet for ages now, everyone knows that.”   
It was like the world had been muted. Everything seemed to slow for a moment, as Sunder lunged forward, Swerve scrambling to hold his mate back, but ultimately being pushed aside as the larger mech colliding with Oblivion, sending the Herald stumbling back slightly. “Well. That was unexpe-” He breaks off, a fist hissing through the air, inches past his helm as he ducks, sliding under the huge mech. This wasn’t his first fight. It could have been his millionth, for all he knew, but what did matter is that he knew how to handle himself. Oblivion turns with such a surprising grace, jabbing the butt of the scythe into Sunder’s abdominal plating, and using the momentum to slide forward, grabbing the first minibot he could get his hands on; the one he’d seen try to hold Sunder back.  
Swerve squirms, trying to push the arm off his neck, visor knocked askew. It wasn’t like Oblivion to take a hostage, but if worse came to worse, well, there wasn’t much of a choice.   
“I’ll make this easy. Get me Froid, and I’ll let your friend go. Otherwise..well. I doubt you'll be seeing each other again."

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. With collage starting I don’t know how often I’ll be updating this anymore. Comments>likes and encourage me to get chapters done quicker and at a better quality.  
> ~~~~~~~~  
> I’m reworking chapter 8. Gonna take it down and do some needed retconing.


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